


and i saw an angel come down from heaven

by TheTinyTortoise



Series: i have never seen a vision nor learned a secret (that would damn or save my soul) [2]
Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, Episode: s04e01 Lazarus Rising, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 04:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20075800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTinyTortoise/pseuds/TheTinyTortoise
Summary: When the doors of the barn blow wide open, Dean isn’t sure quite what he’s expecting to see, but it definitely isn’t a guy in a trench coat.  The man looks like an ordinary dude who’s been swept away by the wind.Ordinary dudes, however, can’t make the roof rattle like it’s going to fly off or explode every lightbulb in a six mile radius. This ordinary dude is definitely not ordinary, and he may not even be a dude at all.“Dean!” Bennie barks. Her tail bristles behind her, raised tall and stiff. “It’s got a daemon!”





	and i saw an angel come down from heaven

When the doors of the barn blow wide open, Dean isn’t sure quite what he’s expecting to see, but it definitely isn’t a guy in a trench coat. The man looks like an ordinary dude who’s been swept away by the wind.

Ordinary dudes, however, can’t make the roof rattle like it’s going to fly off or explode every lightbulb in a six mile radius. This ordinary dude is definitely not ordinary, and he may not even be a dude at all.

“Dean!” Bennie barks. Her tail bristles behind her, raised tall and stiff. “It’s got a daemon!”

She sounds aghast, and for good reason. Few creepy crawlies have daemons because only people have souls, not monsters. They’ve encountered exceptions in their time, but those exceptions have been few and far in between. And none of those exceptions were anywhere near as menacing as whatever the hell is in front of them.

Dean squints through the showers of sparks coming down and sees that she’s right. The man-shaped creature does have a daemon. It’s bird-shaped and white as freshly fallen snow. It has little dark eyes that he swears are watching him watch it.

Dean shivers, and his hands tighten around the shotgun he’s carrying. Daemon or no daemon, whatever this thing is is coming at them, and Dean isn’t about to let it kill him just because he’s a little curious. 

He fires. 

His bullet flies true, and it hits whatever this thing is right where its heart should be. It doesn’t so much as stagger. Even when Bobby fires, too, the creature doesn’t falter in its onward march. The bird on its shoulder blinks slowly and calmly. Not a single feather sticks out of place.

Dean ditches his shotgun, as it’s pretty clear it’s little more than useless against whatever the hell this thing is, and seizes hold of Ruby’s knife. Bennie snarls in warning, and he has just enough time to slide the blade behind his back before the creature is right there in front of him. It stares Dean down with eyes that are incredibly blue right alongside its bird daemon, which doesn’t seem to need to blink. 

Bennie shoves her way in front of Dean. Her hackles are raised so high she’s fluffed up to almost double her usual size. 

“Who are you?” She snarls.

The bird’s head cocks to one side, and it speaks as one with the creature in a way that’s creepy as all hell. “I’m the one that gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Dean drawls, and then sinks Ruby’s knife in the creature’s chest right down to the hilt.

The bird peers down at the knife and clicks her beak, seemingly unconcerned. Wide-eyed, Bennie and Dean watch as the creature reaches up, wraps its fingers around the hilt of the knife, and eases it out of its chest as if it’s doing little more than pulling out a splinter. Dean swears that the creature almost smirks as it dumps the knife to the ground with a clatter.

Bobby takes advantage of the creature’s distraction to swing with the crowbar he’s snatched up, but the creature is unfazed. It catches the crowbar mid-swing and reaches for Bobby’s forehead with its other hand. At a single touch, Bobby’s eyes roll back in his head and he slumps to the ground. Patrinne sinks to the floor beside him without so much as a whimper.

The creature turns back to Dean, completely calm, as if it hadn’t just incapacitated a man and his daemon with one touch. “We need to talk, Dean,” it says, once again with unison with its bird. The pair of them glance at each other, but make no further comment about this apparent habit. “Alone.”

“The hell we do!” growls Bennie. “What did you do to them?” She races over to where Patrinne is slumped, nudging at the other daemon with her nose. “Dean, check if he’s breathing-“

“Your friend is alive,” the bird pipes up, speaking alone for the first time. In surprising contrast to the creature’s gravelly tones, her voice is quite high. “Merely unconscious, so that there would be no interference while we speak.”

“Who are you?” Dean snaps. 

“Castiel.” Again, with that creepy unison.

“Yeah, we figured that much,” Bennie growls.

Dean waves her off and speaks again. “What are you?”

The bird and Castiel fix him with that creepy double stare. Dean’s not sure which pair of eyes-the clear blue ones or the beady black ones-are more intimidating. 

“I’m an angel of the Lord,” they say.

Bennie huffs. “Oh, please,” she says. 

Dean, unamused, adds “Get the hell out of here.”

“You think there’s no such thing,” the bird says, in its high, clear tone. Dean twitches. Jesus, can it read minds now? “But that’s your problem, Dean. You have no faith.”

Lightning crashes, and the barn is filled with light. Against the back wall, black shadows framing Castiel’s body unfurl. The bird, not to be outdone, spreads its own snowy wings. The pair of them paint a tableau that looks unquestionably unearthly.

“Yeah, well, some angel you are,” Dean says, fighting down a shiver. “You burned that poor woman’s eyes out.” There had been nothing holy about the wreckage of Pamela or her Pytho’s faces.

The bird’s feathers droop, and Castiel glances downwards. “I warned her not to gaze at my true form,” he says, quiet. “It can be…..overwhelming for humans to witness. As can my true voice.” He looks back at Dean. “But you already knew that.”

“You mean the gas station….and the motel?” Dean asks.

“That was you talking?” Bennie adds. She glances up at Dean. A couple syllables from this thing was enough to do all that? “Buddy, next time, lower the volume.”

The bird’s feathers puff up. 

“That was my mistake,” Castiel admits. “Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage without sustaining harm. I thought you might be one of them.” He shakes his head. “I was wrong.”

Dean snorts. “And what visage are you in now? Holy tax accountant?”

The bird plucks at the torn remnants of the trench coat’s collar. “This is a vessel,” it says.

Bennie’s lips curl back into a snarl.

“You’re possessing some poor bastard?” Dean demands. 

“He’s a devout man,” Castiel says. “He prayed for this.”

Dean waves a hand towards the bird. “Is that his daemon?” His stomach rolls at the idea of some poor man being locked inside his own mind while a foreign creature tampers with his soul.

Castiel shakes his head again. “No. She is mine.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “I read a lot of crap about you angels, and none of it said that you feathery freaks have souls.”

Castiel’s nose actually wrinkles, as if the idea of having a soul is somehow distasteful. “We do not. She is merely a manifestation of my Grace.”

“Your what?”

“My angelic power,” he clarifies. 

Bennie snorts. “She sure looks like a daemon to me.”

The bird flaps her wings irritably. “I am no daemon,” she says. “I am Castiel, and Castiel is me. This is merely the form I take while on earth.” She clicks her beak in a somewhat haughty manner. “Humans tend to panic when seeing those without what they believe to be souls. This is…..camouflage, of a sort.”

Dean shakes his head and glances at Bennie, seeing the same suspicion he’s feeling in her gaze. “Look, pal, whatever you’re selling, I ain’t buying,” he says. “All this nonsense of raising me from Hell and being a fucking angel…..who are you really?”

Castiel frowns, and his bird cocks its head. “I told you,” they say together.

“Right,” Bennie snorts. She bares her teeth. “Why would an angel rescue us, of all people, from Hell?”

Castiel takes a step forward. Dean eyes his bird warily. Daemon or not, he still doesn’t want that thing touching him.

“Good things do happen, Dean,” Castiel says earnestly. 

“Not in my experience,” Dean shoots back. 

Castiel cocks his head to one side. “What’s the matter?” He murmurs, peering deeply into Dean’s face. 

“He thinks he’s not worthy of being saved,” the bird replies. 

“We are right here,” Bennie growls. “We can hear you two.”

Dean ignores them all. “Why did you do it?” He interrupts.

Castiel and the bird glance at each other. When they speak, once more it’s in perfect unison.

“Because the Lord commanded it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dean’s Bennie is a coyote. She looks something like this: http://www.nhptv.org/wild/images/coyotenps5.jpg
> 
> Bobby’s Patrinne is a bullmastiff. She looks something like this: https://www.shutterstock.com/search/big+dog
> 
> Castiel’s daemon has no name because she considers herself to be an extension of Castiel’s Grace rather than a separate entity. She takes the form of a snow petrel and looks something like this: https://oceanwide-expeditions.com/to-do/wildlife/snow-petrel
> 
> Pamela’s Pytho (who is only mentioned in this fic) is a fancy rat. He looks something like this: http://petworldoutlet.com/rat-fancy-ratfancy-c


End file.
